


I'm Not Kidding

by DuncanByrne



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Horny Teenagers, Humor, Older Woman/Younger Man, POV First Person, Watch out for swear words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 21:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14121621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuncanByrne/pseuds/DuncanByrne
Summary: Wesley tells us about his counseling appointment. Oh boy.





	I'm Not Kidding

When Mom told me she’d booked an appointment with Counselor Troi because of the accident, I was just giddy.

This will sound callous, but I didn’t care at all. At. All. It was supposed to be hypnotherapy or psychoanalysis or one of those things where we’d talk about how I felt about the accident on the away mission, because who knows if I could have fuckin PTSD. or something. I don’t give a shit though. Tumbling around and getting a couple scratches from falling on a shuttle’s control panel is just not a fucking big deal. I didn’t need any help. But I did need to see her. And I felt like I’d just landed a date with the Queen of the Prom.

So you know I strolled into her office so that I looked confident and plopped all my weight onto her sofa like I didn’t give a shit if the springs broke. She just looked up from her PADD nice and calm and said “Hello, Mr. Crusher. I guess I don’t have to have to ask you to take a seat,” or something really polite like that. Damn! Mr. Crusher? Probably because I look so much older. Or not even that—I think that in the back of Mrs. Troi’s head, she just thinks of me as so mature and she’s so attracted to me in spite of herself that her brain tells her to view me as older than other kids to justify it, like a coping mechanism. I’m different from the other kids on board. It’s got to be obvious to her.

Time to break the ice.

Um,

“Oh my god, I can’t feel my arm,” I blurted out. I mean, not the best thing to say since how would she know what the fuck I was talking about, but then she got all concerned and stood up all of a sudden and was all like ‘Oh no, did you break it in the shuttle crash? Should I call your mother to treat it? Are you experiencing an episode?’

Noooo not my mom! Keep her firmly out of this. So I was smooth and just changed the topic and started her talking about PTSD after crashes like the one that poor, unfortunate, traumatized me experienced yesterday. She started nodding sympathetically after a couple of weak complaints and then started telling me about the lifecycle of a stress disorder. Nice. Time to stare at her boobs.

To be fair, she looked like she thought this was a date too. She had specifically changed out of her blue dress and bushy ponytail into a nice tight dark red thing that hugged her hips really nicely, and her hair was down and straight and glossy. Damn. She looked more sultry today. I mean maybe she was just wearing that special stuff for Commander Riker later, but she could’ve also been wanting to get me hard during out meetup. Who knows. You’d have to peek into her brain to see whether or not she’s fantasizing about fucking in the office like I am. Today, she looked like she had a push-up bra on, since I could see more defined cleavage than I remember the other day, and the dark red matched her pale skin so well, and it didn’t really—

“Wesley?”

“Whaaa?”

“Are you staring at my chest?”

What the fuck? How did she notice when she was talking! It wasn’t even that long!

“Uuh, no. No. I wasn’t at all. Like, no.”

She paused and then smiled a bit.

“You can be honest here. I won’t shame you for anything you say as long as you mean it.”

“Uuuuh, yeah, kind of, not going to lie. Sorry, I was just agreeing with what you said about coping mechanisms. Like yeah, you are totally right about them. Like, they sound so bad.”

She seemed suspicious but brushed if off, like she would punish me if it weren’t for how hot I am even at 17, but there’s that, so what can you do. 

I was starting to doze off while she got back on topic...she was probably thinking the same thing as me when she was paying lipservice to my PTSD stress though: “Will anyone ever find out if we do cowgirl on the table real quick?” I mean, you wouldn’t want to get her room dirty or accidentally like bump her combadge and give the bridge an audio clip of us doing it, but if you were careful, then yeah. But it would be a good loss of virginity. None of the other fucking officers’ kids would be on my ass about that again. And I mean, if she was thinking about doing that, then that would be--

“Are you drifting off again, young man?”

“No. I’m fine!”

“Maybe we should resume this appointment on another day after you’ve had a nice long nap.”

“Ok uh sounds good.” 

She walked away, fed up. I just shrugged my shoulders and left. 

Well, I’m back in my quarters right now, and I just changed into some loose pants and threw my shirt on the floor. I mean, if she’s going to come over and make up with me with sex then I want to be ready. I’m just waiting for her now. She’ll be here soon.


End file.
